One Year Later
by IluvMarkSalling
Summary: One year after 'it' happened, Rachel and Charlie are finally able to live a quiet existence, far away from the front lines of the Patriot war; but when a figure from the past shows up, Charlie isn't quite sure she can leave her old life behind.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone, this is, I believe, my first multi chapter story for Revolution. It takes place one year after an event which I have named '_it'_. The first few chapters will be setting up the story, and then we'll get into the action, and see some more characters. I am aware that the characters, especially Charlie might seem a bit OOC, but in this story they've been through something that's changed them, and I will reveal what that is in good time. All in good time, children :)**

**I don't own Revolution.**

* * *

**Clarke County, Southern Iowa**

"Charlie, are you up yet?" Rachel called, tapping on Charlie's closed door. She waited for a response, and after a few seconds, knocked again. "Charlie!"

With a sigh, Rachel entered Charlie's bedroom, and pursed her lips at the sight of her still sleeping daughter curled up under a fluffy white duvet.

"Are you going to sleep all day?" Rachel asked, sitting on the edge of Charlie's bed, and rubbing her back. She could feel the bumps of scar tissue beneath the thin tee shirt that Charlie was wearing.

Charlie groaned, and threw the pillow over her head.

"Yes," came the muffled reply.

"Come on, the sun's climbing higher as we speak. You're only making your chores harder on yourself."

"Five more minutes." Rachel rolled her eyes. They seemed to do this routine every morning. She had hoped that by the age of twenty-two, Charlie would have grown out of the teenage phase of sleeping into the late morning, but apparently she had not.

"Last chance," Rachel warned, running a finger down Charlie's spine, foreshadowing what was to come if Charlie didn't get up. Charlie stiffened and arched her back slightly, but made no move to leave her cocoon.

"Do your worst," Charlie challenged sleepily. Rachel shook her head, not understanding how her girl could be so stubborn, knowing that she would stop at nothing to get her out of bed.

"Alright, suit yourself," Rachel said. She began ruthlessly tickling Charlie's sides, knowing full well that her sides were the most sensitive. The young woman cringed away from Rachel, trying not to laugh.

"Oh no, you aren't escaping this time," Rachel laughed, pulling Charlie back to her.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Charlie said, sitting up in bed, and showing her palms in surrender. She tried to glare at her mom, but failed, and cracked a smile.

"Morning sleeping beauty," Rachel greeted, smoothing Charlie's sleep tousled curls from her face. "Nice of you to join the land of the living."

"Yeah, yeah."

Charlie stood up and stretched as she made her way over to her closet.

"Burning the midnight oil?" Rachel asked as Charlie pulled on some jeans.

"I was actually out late in town," Charlie replied. She tugged a fresh shirt over her head, and went to the washbasin in the corner.

"Doing?" Rachel prompted.

"Playing some cards. Had a few drinks."

"You know I don't like you out past sunset."

Charlie straightened up from where she was leaning over the basin, and dried her face with a towel as she faced her mom.

"Mom, no one is going to kidnap me, or kill me. I'm not that interesting to bounty hunters and Patriots anymore."

"Yes, but you're very beautiful, and that's something that's always going to make you interesting to men."

"Thank you," Charlie said. "Do you really think so?" Rachel groaned, and Charlie laughed.

"Mom, I'm just messing with you. If it makes you feel better, I'll be home by sunset next time I go out, even though I'm missing all the best card games-"

"Thank you," Rachel said, cutting her daughter off.

Rachel stood up from the bed now that Charlie was dressed, and the two made their way downstairs.

"I'll make you some breakfast, or I suppose it's more like lunch by this point. Go milk the cow, and I'll call you when it's ready."

"Alright," Charlie agreed, albeit reluctantly. She pushed the creaky screen door out of her way, and stepped out into the hot day, her boots crunching over the dry, yellow grass.

"Should have got up earlier," Charlie muttered to herself as the sun beat down on her tanned skin, from nearly overhead.

She entered the barn, and nudged one of the chickens out of her path with the toe of her boot. It flapped its wings and let out a disgruntled cluck.

Charlie stopped at the beam where she kept the milking stool leant against. Her calloused hand stroked the sheathed blade of her sword. She kept it hung up on a nail in the beam just in case she ever needed it again. She doubted she would. The past year had been nothing but milking the cow, tending crops, and other mind-numbingly boring farm work.

With a dejected look in her eyes, Charlie grabbed the milking stool, and set to work.

* * *

"Do you mind coming with me to the market today?" Rachel asked. "We have a big yield."

"Sure," Charlie agreed as she finished her lunch. She liked going to the market. The hustle and bustle was the closet thing she had to excitement in her life.

Rachel took her plate, and went to the sink to wash it, and finish the other dishes.

"Can you help me tie this?" Charlie asked, holding out a bandana.

"Sure," Rachel agreed, drying her hands on a towel. Charlie held out her right wrist, and Rachel tied the grey bandana snugly around it, making sure that the entire brand mark was covered.

A militia brand was sure to set off some suspicion in the town, and that was the last thing that they wanted. It kind of went against the whole laying low thing.

"Now what is your name?" Rachel asked. Charlie gave her a look.

"Mom, we've done this for nearly a _year_. I know this."

"It's easy to let things slip. It's happened before."

The first few weeks they were on the road, they hadn't quite gotten their story down. One thing led to another, and they ended up barely escaping from a bounty hunter.

Since then, they had decided on a story that they would tell people. It couldn't be too different in case one of them let something slip. If they had completely different identities, it would be too hard to keep up with the story.

"Please just humor me," Rachel requested.

"Charlotte Davis," Charlie sighed.

"Very good. Where are we from?"

"Nebraska. We needed a change of scenery after my dad, your husband, died of cholera, so we decided to move to Iowa. Mom, I know this, see?"

"Sorry. Can't be too cautious."

Despite her mild annoyance at being quizzed, Charlie smiled gently at her mom. She appreciated that Rachel was so concerned about keeping their new life. For the first time, she honestly didn't worry about her mom leaving.

Rachel, on the other hand, did worry. Charlie was nearly twenty-three now, and Rachel knew that what they had wasn't going to last forever. At some point, Charlie would meet a boy, and they would get married, and Charlie would go to live with him. It was inevitable.

She tried not to think too much about it. The important thing was that she'd had her daughter in her life for a solid year, and counting. She needed to focus on that instead of the idea of it coming to an end.

"Mom, the wagon's loaded," Charlie said. "My arms are killing me from doing it myself while you were daydreaming, but it's done."

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" Rachel teased, stroking Charlie's bicep. Charlie gave her a look of annoyance, and left the house with a huff. Rachel laughed, and followed her.

* * *

"That'll be one ounce of diamonds," Rachel said. The man handed her a small bag, and she quickly weighed it on the scale. "Thank you very much, Mr. Roberts. My daughter will help you load your cart."

"Mrs. Davis, it's always a pleasure," he replied, giving her a cordial smile. He went to the table that Charlie had the products on, and took the sack of flour that she handed him. Charlie gave him an expectant look, and he reluctantly handed over another bag of diamonds.

"You got lucky," he said as he got in the cart, and drove away.

"What was that about?" Rachel asked. Charlie tossed the bag on the scale, and the dial turned to three ounces.

"I got lucky last night."

"That phrase isn't very common anymore so you probably don't know what you said, but don't ever say that again," Rachel said with a small shudder. Charlie shrugged.

"What I mean is, I had good luck at poker last night. He owed me money. I was thinking that we could buy a new combine harvester. There's a model that you can attach a horse to. It would really save my back, not having to push it and all."

Rachel nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

In truth, Rachel felt relieved; any time that Charlie showed even the slightest interest towards farming, Rachel felt reassurance. It meant that even slowly, Charlie was forgetting _that_ time in her life. It had been a tough year, breaking her out of that life, but Rachel felt as though they were finally turning a corner.

"We just have a little bit more to sell, but then we can go buy it," Rachel promised. Charlie nodded, and Rachel turned to the approaching customer.

* * *

"So you like this model?" Rachel asked. Charlie examined the harvester again.

"Yeah, it's nice."

"That's one of my better harvesters," John, the salesman said. He was a cheerful man in his late sixties, most likely.

Before the blackout, he was an automotive engineer. Now he built, fixed, and sold farming equipment. "It's lightweight too, so you'll only need one horse to pull it," John continued, clapping a hand on the thick steel of the harvester.

"We'll take it," Rachel said. "Do you mind helping us hook it up to the wagon so we can take it home?"

"Sure, no problem, Mrs. Davis. It'll be a few minutes, just so you know."

"I can wait. Char, why don't you go wander for a few minutes?" Rachel suggested. Charlie agreed, and wandered off.

"Do you have that other thing?" Rachel asked when Charlie was out of earshot.

"Got it right here," he said, holding up the box, and handing it to Rachel. She took off the lid, and looked inside.

John's wife was a jeweller, who was quite talented at hand engraving. Rachel had an antique locket that she bought when she was pregnant with Charlie. She wanted to wait until Charlie was old enough to give it to her, and then many years passed when she was captive in Philadelphia. This was the first birthday that Rachel was with Charlie for since she was twelve, so she decided that it was the perfect time, and she decided to get it engraved.

Rachel opened the locket, and read the engraving inside.

_To my beautiful Charlotte, _

_You are the joy in my heart._

_Love, Mom._

"It looks great, thank you," Rachel said. "What do I owe you?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Charlotte's a good kid. Marie and I are happy to do this for you. Tell her happy birthday from us, will you?"

"I will. Thank you so much."

"Don't worry about it. Now let's get that harvester hooked up, alright?"

* * *

"Join the resistance! Fight for the _real_ America!"

Charlie watched bitterly as the young soldier cried out, calling upon citizens to enlist. She should be in charge of things by now, her and Miles. Rachel and Miles may have founded it, but it was her and Miles that were really in charge.

Miles had begun to trust her more. She was getting to make calls for the group. She led missions. The junior guys, they looked up to her. Treated her as a CO. Then it all fell apart.

"Hey, are you ready to go?"

Charlie jumped slightly as her mom put a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," Rachel said. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"I was just… got lost in thought," Charlie murmured. She turned around and began walking towards the cart.

Rachel followed Charlie's former line of sight, and saw the soldiers of the resistance at their booth, trying to get people to enlist.

Rachel felt frustration fill her entire body; this was the last thing she needed. She knew it was going to relapse Charlie, even a little bit. The kid was destined to be a soldier, which made it so much harder to get her to live a quiet life. Still, Rachel was managing to do it. Another year, and Charlie would have completely left that life behind. Rachel was counting on it. She couldn't let those soldiers awaken that side of Charlie. It would destroy everything they'd worked for.

* * *

"You're quiet," Rachel observed.

"Thinking," Charlie muttered as she stared out at the trees that passed by on the way home.

"Let's just be straight with each other," Rachel said. "We both saw the soldiers. I know what you're thinking, and I'm going to stop that train of thought right there."

Charlie turned in her seat to look at her mom, a certain grimness in her pretty blue eyes.

"You are not going back to fight," Rachel said firmly. "I can't let you. We have a good thing going here, and you are not going to mess it up."

"What if they need us?" Charlie asked. "What about the people that we abandoned?"

"They made their choice, and we made ours."

"I didn't make it. You made it for me. I never wanted to leave."

"This isn't a discussion. I'm telling you that that part of our lives is over. There is no Miles, or Aaron, or resistance. There is you and me, and that's it."

"What happened to you? A year ago you _founded_ the resistance, and now you want nothing to do with it. Why would it be so bad to go back?"

"Because I can't go through that again. I watched you day after day, come home, beaten, and bloody. I pulled bullets out of you and stitched you up more times than I can count. I would watch you go off on a mission, and spend the entire day wondering if I would ever see you again. I knew that praying for you to come home alive was too much to ask, so I used to pray that there would at least be a body for them to bring back to me. I barely got you out last time, and I don't know if I'm lucky enough to be able to do it again. That's why it would be so bad to go back, and that's why I won't let you."'

"But-"

"I am sorry to play this card, and this is the only time I'll use it, but I gave up too much for you. I sacrificed everything, my entire life, so that you would have a fighting chance of living to be twenty-three. I will never see my dad, or Miles, or Aaron again. That's not easy; but I did it because I'm your mom, and it's my job to take care of you. There is no option of going back, and then coming here again. This is it. If this doesn't work, then we're screwed."

Charlie looked over at her mom, and thought about everything they had been through in the past year and a bit.

When Charlie first returned and brought Monroe with her, Rachel was furious. She spent days glaring at Charlie, saying harsh things to her, while Miles gave Charlie pleading looks to stay calm.

Finally, Charlie hit a breaking point, and the two of them had the worst fight they'd ever had. Rachel called Charlie a stupid bitch, and accused Charlie of whoring herself out to Monroe. Charlie punched her, and Rachel pushed her into a wall, where Charlie hit her head. The fight ended with Miles escorting Rachel out of the house, and Gene taking Charlie to his office to get stitches.

They didn't see or talk to each other for two weeks, until the Patriots set a bomb off, and Charlie was standing too close.

Charlie was thrown into the side of a building. She got a concussion and fractured a vertebra.

Rachel spent those three weeks she was put on bed rest with her. Kept her company, tried to raise her spirits.

Rachel was also there when Gene was putting her through physical therapy, holding her up until she got her leg strength back to normal and could walk on her own.

Charlie realized that every decision Rachel made, no matter how bad it was, was because she thought it was right for her kids. She could hardly fault her mom for that.

"I'm sorry, mom," Charlie said. "I won't argue with you, I won't think about the resistance. I will commit myself to farm life."

"Thank you," Rachel said gratefully. "I'm sorry baby, it's just-"

"It's been a year to the day," Charlie finished. Rachel nodded.

"I can't stop thinking about... _it_," Rachel admitted.

"I'm sorry I put you through that."

"I'm just glad I got you out."

Charlie sighed, thinking about that day, and what would have happened if Rachel had failed. "Yeah, me too."

Rachel reached over and squeezed her daughter's hand as the horses approached their house. Though things seemed to be looking up, Rachel knew that a storm was coming.

**Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your feedback. Also, the next chapter will reveal more about _it._**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know this is short, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

**June 22, 2029 8:00 am**

** Willoughby, Texas**

"So Truman will be here," Miles pointed to a spot on the map that was spread out on Gene's kitchen table. "At ten this morning. His address will last five minutes, and then he will return to his quarters. Charlie, this has to go as planned."

Charlie nodded gravely at her uncle, trying not to let the pressure get to her.

"If you think you're going to choke, tell me now," Miles said. "You're a great sniper, but I can get someone else-"

"No," Charlie said firmly. "I've got this."

Miles nodded. "Okay. Then get ready."

* * *

"Be careful today," Rachel said, leaning in the doorway of Charlie's bedroom. Charlie hooked her sword onto her belt, and met her mom's eyes.

"I will," she promised. Rachel bit her lip; something just didn't feel right. Call it mother's intuition.

"You don't have to do this," Rachel told her.

"These guys blew up Philly and Atlanta. They sabotaged the nanites, and caused the blackout. They're responsible for billions of deaths. This is our chance to show them that we're not going to lie down and take it."

"But _you_ don't have to do it."

"Who else do we have? They'll be on the lookout for Miles, we don't have Monroe anymore, and I can't give this kind of mission to a rookie. Besides, I don't want anyone else to have all the glory." Charlie gave her mom a grin, trying to ease her mom's worry.

Rachel hesitated for a moment, and then pulled her daughter into a tight hug. She closed her eyes and rested her chin on top of Charlie's head. Rachel sighed; in the last few months she had been granted the right to hug or kiss Charlie whenever she wanted. Things hadn't been that way with them for a long time, and she liked the new dynamics they had; she didn't want it to end with Charlie being… she couldn't even think about it.

"Just… come back to me, alright?" Rachel murmured.

Charlie pulled away and gave her mom a reassuring smile. "I'll be back in a couple hours."

* * *

The sun beat down on Charlie, as she lay prone on the rooftop. It wasn't even ten yet, and it was already blistering hot. Man, she missed the summers back in Wisconsin. They seemed hot to her back then, but they were wonderful compared to summer in Texas.

Charlie pressed herself further to the roof as Truman exited his office and walked out onto the balcony. He briefly scanned the skyline, and then looked down at the gathering crowd of citizens, and prepared to make his address.

Charlie worked quickly, setting up the sniper rifle, so the crosshairs were locked onto his temple.

She took a deep breath, and settled her finger on the trigger. Taking one last check to make sure everything was in order, she stared through the scope, and began to squeeze the trigger.

* * *

Several blocks away, Miles and Rachel waited for the gunshot.

"She should have done it by now," Miles said, checking his pocket watch. He wound it again, and shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans.

"Give it a little longer," Rachel said. Still, she looked nervous.

"…thank you for your time, and God bless America," Truman said, a fake smile on his face. He turned and walked back into his office.

"What happened?" Aaron whispered to his girlfriend as they stood in the city square, gathered with the other citizens of Willoughby. She looked up at him, a worried look in her eyes.

* * *

"Maybe she didn't have a clear shot?" Rachel suggested.

"We picked the location carefully," Miles said, his tone filling with worry. "She had a clear shot. Either she choked… or someone got to her."

"What do we do?"

"We'll go to the roof first," he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "If she's not there, we'll check the house. Maybe she went back there," Miles said. "It's going to be okay. We're probably getting way ahead of ourselves."

Miles and Rachel made their way through the streets, trying not to look suspicious by running, though it was killing them to take their time.

"You wait here," Miles said. "I'll be right back."

Miles climbed the fire escape to the rooftop, and looked around. His stomach dropped; the rifle was still there, along with a streak of fresh blood.

**Let me know what you think**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So I realized that with the previous chapters I made a few mistakes, and they were bothering me so I changed them. **

**Mistake 1: The flashbacks were not in 2018. I meant to write 2028, but that is also incorrect. The flashbacks are actually in 2029, because...**

**Mistake 2:...because I did the math. In season 1, when Danny was taken and Charlie went to get Miles, she was twenty, and the year was 2027. Mia Clayton said that she was hoping to get to Texas by January, meaning that it was sometime towards the end of 2027, maybe around November or something. Sometime in the middle of season 1, it became 2028.**

**Six months passed between 1x20 and 2x01, and in 2x04 it was October 31, so 1x20 took place around April. In Season 2, the year would therefore be 2028 almost 2029, and depending on when Charlie's birthday actually is, she's probably twenty-one. In this story, I'm putting her birthday in June, meaning that by June of 2029, she would be twenty-two. One year after that, just before her birthday means that she's turning twenty-three, not twenty-two as I previously stated.**

**I probably could have left it the same, but things like this bug me, so I had to make it right.**

**Rant over, enjoy the story.**

* * *

**June 22, 2029 11:00 am**

**Willoughby, Texas**

"Get up."

A large, rough hand slapped Charlie's cheek, and she came to, blinking away the blur in her vision.

She was chained to a steel chair in some sort of dingy basement cell. Her head was throbbing, and she could feel a slight trickle of blood running down the back of her head.

Charlie slowly raised her head and found herself staring at an unhappy Patriot soldier, who glared back down at her.

"I'm Corporal Bronson," he said. "Chief medical technician for the Willoughby regiment. You're going to tell me everything you know, or I will pump you full of pentobarbital… and you will die."

Charlie gave a tiny smirk. "You need to work on your bedside manner," she advised.

Bronson's fist slammed into her jaw so hard she was half sure it was broken.

Charlie spat out a mouthful of blood on to the dirty cement floor, and looked back up to see him brandishing a syringe full of some sort of clear liquid.

"Goodbye Miss Matheson."

Charlie kept her expression neutral, if not defiant, but she felt several emotions. Fear, panic, sadness... she couldn't make her mom bury another child. She couldn't die without saying goodbye to Uncle Miles.

The needle was centimetres from Charlie's neck, when a voice called out.

"Corporal!"

Bronson stopped his advance towards the beaten up woman, and turned to the door where Truman stood.

"Put that away," Truman ordered. He turned his psychotic gaze onto Charlie, and cracked a smile. "I have another plan for her."

* * *

"Why are we here?" Rachel hissed to Miles as they stood in the town square, gathered with the other confused citizens of Willoughby.

"Because the Patriots ordered that everyone be here," Miles replied quietly. "If we don't show up, they're going to figure out pretty quickly who was in charge of Charlie's mission."

"My little girl is out there with them doing God knows what to her. I can't just stand around."

"Well you're gonna. Now shut up and drool for Uncle Sam like the rest of these people."

As Miles finished talking, Truman walked out onto the platform where he had stood with General Carver months ago.

"Thank you for all coming," Truman said. "I know that you all must be busy, but I have something disturbing to share.

"This morning an attempt was made on my life," he announced.

Rachel grabbed Miles' hand tightly, her nails digging into his flesh as she tried to keep her composure.

"We have caught the person responsible for this," Truman continued. "But we believe she was not acting alone." He paused. "I am speaking to those involved now.

"We will find you, and you will pay for your crimes against the United States of America. If you don't believe me, then just watch."

Truman gestured to someone, and a soldier stepped forward, leading a prisoner.

"Oh God," Rachel whimpered.

The prisoner's cuffed hands were attached above her head to a pole. The bag was ripped off her head, and Charlie's beaten face was revealed.

Rachel instinctively moved toward her daughter, and Miles grabbed her arm.

"No. They'll kill you if you try and get in their way."

"They're going to kill her!"

"No," Miles said, paling slightly. "They're doing something else."

A beefy soldier grabbed the back of Charlie's shirt, and ripped it open, exposing the smooth, delicate skin of her back.

"What are they doing? Miles, what are they going to do?" Rachel turned to look at Miles, and heard the loud snap of leather hitting skin.

Rachel turned sharply just in time to see Charlie cry out in pain and surprise. She didn't have much time to recover before the soldier struck her again with the whip.

"No!" Rachel yelled in horror.

"Is there a problem, Doctor Matheson?" Truman asked, his hand moving towards his holstered pistol, as he grinned sickly at her.

Miles was shaking with rage, and his fingers were itching to wrap around Truman's throat, but he managed to take Rachel's hand, and squeeze it soothingly.

"No problem," Miles choked out over the snaps of the whip, and Charlie's cries.

Rachel and Miles were unable to do anything but watch in horror as Charlie was whipped over and over again, becoming weaker and weaker until she was barely conscious. The whip struck her back yet again, and she was unable to even cry out. Her body just twitched in agony, and she hung there, lacking the strength to stand upright.

Finally, the soldier unhooked the handcuffs from the pole, and allowed Charlie's arms to drop, along with the rest of her body.

The Patriots laughed as Charlie weakly fell to the ground. Rachel got a look at her shredded, bloody back and felt like throwing up.

"Take her back," Truman ordered. "You know what to do next."

Two soldiers grabbed Charlie's arms, and hauled her away.

"What are they doing with her now?" Rachel hissed, watching Charlie being dragged away from the crowd, blood dripping down her back.

"I don't know, but it's not going to be good. We need to get back to the house and talk."

"Leave?" Rachel parroted in disbelief. "Miles, I can't just leave!"

"You have no other choice," he said. "Whatever they're going to do to Charlie, by morning it will be done. We need to get her out tonight. Once we get her, she can't stay in town. The Patriots want to make an example out of Charlie. What do you think will happen if she disappears on them? Their reputation is on the line. They won't just let a prisoner like her walk free."

"Where are we supposed to go?"

"North. I don't think your high school Spanish will cut it to make it in Mexico, you can't go East because that's where these sons of bitches came from, and you will never make it west across the Rockies. Other than that, I don't want to know where you'll be. It'll be better if I really don't know where you are."

"Wait, you have to come with us," Rachel protested. Miles shook his head.

"I will complicate things Rachel, and you know that. My face used to be painted on posters for the Monroe Republic. I'm too recognizable. You can get away. Just you and Charlie. This is how it has to be. So go pack your crap."

Rachel shared a long look with Miles, before relenting and slowly turning toward the staircase.

Rachel froze as her eyes locked with her father's. Rachel angrily opened her mouth, but Gene cut her off.

"I won't tell them about this," Gene promised. "I want to help."

"Help?" Rachel growled. "I don't want your 'help', dad."

"I did what I did to protect you and Charlie. They betrayed that promise, and now I will do everything I can to take them down; but first we need to get you and Charlie out of Willoughby. I have a plan to do that."

**Please review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's another chapter. I hope you enjoy. I set this one in the present day like some of you asked for.**

Charlie sighed and watched the flame dance on the logs as the fire crackled away in their living room. She felt her mom tousle her hair again; separating the wet strands, and allowing the heat from the fire dry her bath-dampened hair.

It used to be weird for Charlie to have Rachel do things like that for her. She had been so independent for so many years, that she didn't quite know what to do when there was someone that was taking care of her.

At first, it was because her stiff back did not allow her to lift her arms much. So Rachel stepped in and gave her sponge baths, washed and brushed her hair, even helped her dress herself. Then her back healed and she could bathe and change herself, but Rachel continued to brush her hair for her, braid it when Charlie would allow her to.

Charlie realized that Rachel kind of needed it. She needed to do those motherly things for her to try and combat the ever-present guilt that she felt for being absent most of Charlie's childhood.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Rachel broke the silence.

"Hmm?"

"It's an old expression. Before diamonds were used, there was a different kind of currency…" Rachel trailed off, seeing the blank look on Charlie's face. Sometimes she forgot how young her daughter was. "Never mind. Just… tell me what you're thinking about."

"This past year," Charlie replied.

"We've come a long way, huh?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. We have."

Rachel was quiet for a moment, and then she grabbed Charlie's hand and pulled her to her feet.

"What is it?" Charlie asked.

"Come with me; I want to do something with you."

Charlie followed her mom into the kitchen.

"I never did get to cook with my daughter," Rachel said, pulling out a few ingredients, and giving Charlie a smile. "Not traditionally, anyway."

"I can't cook, you know that," Charlie said. "That's why I'm twenty-two and you still make all my meals for me."

"And that's why we're doing this," Rachel replied. "After all, you will need to be able to feed my grandchildren."

Charlie rolled her eyes good naturedly, and stepped up to the counter, examining the ingredients that Rachel pulled out.

Charlie began measuring out the ingredients to make bread as Rachel told her to, all the while deep in thought.

"That won't be for a long time," Charlie said. "Kids, I mean."

"Do you not want kids?" Rachel asked. There was no judgment in her tone, but truthfully, she would be disappointed if she didn't get grandchildren.

Charlie thought for a moment before replying.

"I'm not sure," she answered honestly, mixing some ingredients together. "I don't feel ready for kids, not even a little. I was still taking care of Danny before I left my village, so I never really got time to date. A few girls my age were married, with a baby, and they seemed happy, sure, and the babies were cute… I'm just not sure it's for me."

"If it's not, I support you, but you don't have to decide anything yet. You're still young."

Charlie smiled softly. "Thanks mom."

Rachel returned the smile, and ran a hand affectionately down the side of Charlie's face before turning back to the lump of dough that Charlie had now completed.

"You're doing well," Rachel praised. She felt a swell of joy at being able to teach her daughter something. "Now we have to knead it. Like this," she showed Charlie how to knead the dough, and then let her do it.

Before long, the dough was completed, and in the oven.

"It'll take a few hours to cook," Rachel said. "Why don't you go play poker or whatever it is you do, and come back a little later? You'll be bored just sitting around."

Charlie was halfway out the door as Rachel finished her sentence.

"Hey, come back here," Rachel said. Charlie hurried back, gave Rachel a kiss on the cheek, and then rushed out of the house again.

"Bye mom, love you," Charlie called.

Rachel shook her head good-naturedly as her daughter went to go play with her friends; she never was going to grow up.

* * *

"Alright boys… and girl, flip 'em."

Charlie turned over her cards, and tossed them down on the dirty bar table. She glanced at the other cards, and sighed when she saw the full house that beat her flush.

"Tough break today, Davis. Guess your luck ran out."

Charlie groaned as Colin slid the pile of diamonds and gold across the table towards himself, and began greedily shoving it in his pockets.

"I'll be back tomorrow for my money," Charlie warned him as she stood up. She knocked back the last dregs of her whiskey, and paid her tab.

"Sure," Colin laughed. "Whatever you say, kid."

Charlie stepped out of the dank bar and into the cool evening air. There was still an hour ride home, so she knew she should hurry if she wanted to get home before nightfall, but she desperately wanted to do something. What, she didn't know. Just something. She wanted adventure just one more time.

Charlie sighed as she walked toward the stable where she had tied her horse up.

A man, not paying attention, stepped into her path, and Charlie bumped into him.

"I'm sorry about that," he said politely. Charlie froze. She knew that voice, and the false gentlemanly demeanor.

Charlie looked up into the man's face, and her stomach dropped. She thought that losing half an ounce of diamonds was the worst her day could get, but she was dead wrong.

"Well, well, well, Ms. Matheson, it is a pleasure," he said with a slow grin that just made her want to punch him.

"It's Davis now, Neville," she corrected him with an irritated expression. "Charlotte Davis."

His expression turned confused.

"I don't know what you're doing here, but I guess it doesn't much matter to me now," Charlie said. "If you have any integrity whatsoever, you'll forget you ever saw me. Now I need to get home."

"But we haven't seen each other in so long, and I'd like very much to catch up," Tom Neville said innocently.

"And I'd like very much to smack that fake smile right off your face, but life is full of disappointment," Charlie replied sweetly. She turned away from him, and began walking towards the stable once more

"You know, I'm the CO of the resistance unit that came into town. My boy is back at our base. I'm sure he'd like to see you."

Charlie stopped. Jason. The only guy she ever loved. She had been thinking about him since she last saw him, and if she didn't get some sort of closure, she'd spend the rest of her life thinking about Jason.

"I see that I have your attention," Tom said. "Follow me."

* * *

The base was a small and rundown old barn a few miles outside town. It was heavily packed, but not with anyone from the area. It was the main reason that Rachel picked Iowa. Most of the people these days were pacifists. Small town farmers. No one wanted to get involved with militias or rebels, the Patriots, or the resistance.

"You got a visitor, boy," Tom said. Jason looked up from the papers he was reading, and froze, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

"Charlie," he said, stunned. She grinned at him, and the two shared a hug.

"You're with the resistance," she said. "How did that happen?"

"We actually tried to infiltrate the Patriots, but that didn't exactly work out for us," Jason replied. Tom looked away unhappily.

"What are you doing here?" Jason asked. "Did you come in with a unit?"

"No," Charlie replied hesitantly. "I…I live here."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked. Irritated, Charlie gave him a look.

"Do you mind?" Charlie said. "I didn't come here to see _you_."

"Easy there," Neville said. "Whatever happened between us in the past doesn't matter now. We're on the same team now… can I call you Charlie?"

"No." The irritation was evident in her tone. "And I'm not on any team. Not anymore," Charlie replied.

"What are you talking about?" Jason asked.

"I'm retired. I don't fight anymore," she explained.

"But we need you," Jason insisted. "We need everyone we can get, and you're worth ten people."

"You're wasting your time," Charlie said. "I should go. Just tell me, is Miles okay?" She was terrified to ask the question, but she needed to know.

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but Tom cut him off.

"_General Matheson,_" he said with mock respect, "was killed two months ago," Neville said. Charlie's heart thumped in her ears, and it took a solid minute for that to really process. Miles was dead?

"Miles… he's… how?" Charlie managed to get out.

"It was Truman," Tom said gravely. "Shot your dear old uncle right in the face. I wasn't there to see it, but I heard that he lived for several minutes, just screaming away in agony before he bled out."

Charlie stared at the wall, unresponsive. Jason gave his father a worried look.

"I... I need to get home. It's getting late," Charlie whispered, looking devastated. On shaky legs, she made her way out of the barn, and back towards the town.

"Why did you tell her that?" Jason asked, giving his father an angry look. Tom just smiled that twisted smile of his.

"Because she's going to go home and think about what I told her. It's going to rattle around in her head, and it's going to make her mad. She's going to want revenge on the man who killed her uncle."

"You don't think she's going to figure out pretty quickly that you lied?"

"I only need her to believe it long enough for us to see battle. Even a small one, because once she fires a gun, or swings a sword, she'll never want to stop," Neville explained.

"Why can't you just leave Charlie be? She was pretty adamant that she didn't want to fight again."

"You read the same Patriot file that I did," Neville replied. "You know exactly why we need her back."

Jason looked away. He did know. He just didn't share his father's belief that what they were going to do with Charlie was good.

* * *

"Hey," Rachel called from the kitchen as Charlie entered the house. When she received no response, she walked into the front hall where Charlie was taking off her boots.

"Char?" Rachel prompted, reaching out and touching Charlie's shoulder. Charlie looked up at her, a tortured look in her eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me," Rachel pleaded. Charlie opened her mouth, and then just broke down in tears.

Rachel held her daughter as she cried, not having a clue as to what was wrong, but knowing that it wasn't good.

**I would really appreciate it if you guys would review :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here's where things ramp up. Hope you like it.**

After several long minutes, Charlie had calmed down enough to tell her mom what was wrong. Truthfully, she had debated making something up, but she decided against it, and told her the whole truth. Too much had happened between them for Charlie to lie to Rachel.

They were now sitting on the couch, Rachel holding Charlie tightly as they cried together, mourning the loss of Miles.

"How did he die?" Rachel whispered. Charlie dropped her gaze. This would be the hardest part to admit.

"Truman… he shot Miles." Charlie took a deep breath. "If I had just-"

"No. I'm not letting you blame yourself. People die, and there's nothing we could've done to stop it. That's war. People you love just die."

They both sat in silence for a while, thinking about their dead loved ones.

"I have to go," Charlie murmured. Rachel's head snapped up.

"Charlie…"

"I can't just move on and not do anything! I have to go and-"

"And what? What are you going to do? You can go kill a hundred more Patriots, but you will never beat them all, and eventually you will just get yourself killed. We both lost Miles, Charlie. Now you want me to lose you too?"

Charlie floundered for several moments, trying to come up with a response before failing; Rachel made some good points.

"Look, you're worked up right now. You're not thinking clearly. Take some time to think this through."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Fine."

"Thank you. Now we both need to get some sleep."

Rachel guided her daughter upstairs, and tucked her into bed.

"Goodnight Charlie. I love you."

"Love you too."

Rachel gave a gentle smile to her daughter before going to her own room. As soon as her door was closed, she broke down in sobs.

* * *

Time passed. They had a small celebration for Charlie's birthday. It was just the two of them. Rachel made a carrot cake, just like when Charlie was a kid. Though sadness hung in the air, they eventually learned to live with it, and move on.

Charlie realized that though she was angry, running off trying to get revenge wouldn't bring Miles back, and she would not only endanger herself, but her mom as well.

Things went back to normal.

* * *

"It hasn't worked," Jason said. "Charlie really is retired. We should just move on."

"When have you ever known me to give up?" Tom asked. "This plan has not failed, it has just been delayed. Your little girlfriend needs a push, that's all. By tomorrow she will be with us."

"Don't do whatever you're thinking about doing," Jason warned. "You've gone far enough already."

"Have a little faith," Tom said with a smile. Jason felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. This was not going to be good.

* * *

Smoke. There was something burning.

Rachel woke up, and frowned, trying to figure out what was burning.

Thick black smoke was flowing through the crack under the door.

Rachel shot up and dashed to the closet. She grabbed the two black duffels and went over to the window, tossing them out and onto the grass below.

She flung the bedroom door open and saw the full extent of the damage. The house was engulfed in fire. Panic filled her as she thought about her daughter. Where was Charlie?

'She better not be sleeping,' Rachel thought. 'God help her if she's sleeping.'

Rachel burst into Charlie's room, and found that her daughter was sleeping peacefully in her bed. She let out a frustrated growl, and grabbed Charlie by the back of the shirt, hauling her out of bed.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked sleepily.

"Don't talk, just move," Rachel ordered.

They made their way down the stairs, which hadn't yet caught fire, and into the living room. Rachel pulled Charlie out of the way of a falling beam, shielding her with her own body.

"Back door," Rachel said, looking at the front door, which was completely engulfed in flames, and blocked by debris.

They made it out of the house, and onto the lawn.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, staring at their house in shock and horror.

"I have no idea."

Charlie snapped out of her shock, and looked to the barn, before sprinting towards it, trying to get to it before it collapsed.

"Charlie, stop!" Rachel commanded.

Charlie ignored her mom and ran into the barn. She grabbed her sword and looked to the animals. With a sickening feeling, she realized that there was nothing she could do. She could untie them, but by that time she wouldn't be able to get them or herself back out. She would have to leave them.

Charlie ran back out of the barn and stumbled back, staring at the barn, and the collapsing house. What had happened?

Charlie looked to her mom, and found that Rachel wasn't there. She frantically looked around, and saw her mother standing across the yard, a dead Patriot soldier by her feet.

"How did they find us?" Charlie asked as Rachel walked back over to her.

"I don't know, but we can't stay here. They'll just send more troops."

"So what do we do?" Charlie asked. Rachel hesitated before nodding to herself.

"We can't run, or hide. We tried that and it didn't work. It looks like we'll have to fight." Rachel handed her a black duffel bag. "It's a go bag. I have one for each of us."

Charlie opened the bag and found clothes, a canteen, boots, money, and a pistol. She looked back up at her mom.

"If they want a war, then we'll give them one," Rachel said. "Well Charlotte, get dressed; we're going to fight the Patriots."

**Please review if you can**


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